Caregiver Secrets

Fixed S3 Ep 11 - When the Sun Sets, the Storm Begins: Beating Sundowning with Love and Strategy

Welcome back to the Caregiver Secrets Podcast! I am so excited that you are here and I please know that this is the  show where we share practical advice, heartfelt stories, and encouragement to my fellow family caregivers. Thank you for listening today. I am Reggie and I have been caring for my mom for over 10 years now. I personally know how isolating caregiving can be and I want  you to know that you’re not alone on this journey, and together, we’ll share the joys and challenges of caregiving with compassion and support.
My friends,  this is not medical, financial, or health advice. Please consult with the appropriate professionals for specific concerns. My role is to inform and support you as best I can, but the actions you take are totally up to you. With that said, let’s get to work.
Today, I have the perfect story to help us explore today’s topic.
Martin had always been a man of quiet strength, a husband whose dedication to his wife, Elaine, had never wavered through their fifty years of marriage. When Elaine was diagnosed with Alzheimer's, Martin had promised to be her anchor. At first, the changes were slow, manageable—forgotten names, misplaced keys, stories repeated within minutes. But as the disease progressed, new challenges emerged, none more distressing than the chaos that arrived with dusk.
The first time Martin noticed it, Elaine had been fine all day—chatting softly about their children, holding his hand as they walked in the garden. But as the sun began to dip below the horizon, something shifted. Her warm gaze clouded with suspicion. “Who are you?” she had asked, her voice sharp, frightened. The words hit Martin like a blow.
He had tried to remind her, gently, patiently, but that only seemed to agitate her more. She became restless, pacing the house, eyes darting around as if looking for an escape. Then came the paranoia—insisting there were strangers in the house, that someone was trying to steal from her. She refused to sit, refused to be consoled. That night, Martin barely slept, holding Elaine’s trembling hand as she finally drifted into a fitful sleep.
As the weeks passed, the pattern became heartbreakingly clear. Every evening, like clockwork, Elaine’s agitation returned. She became anxious, confused, and sometimes even angry. Once, she had tried to leave the house, convinced she needed to “go home,” though they had lived there for over forty years. Martin realized this was sundowning, a cruel and common feature of dementia.
Determined to help Elaine through it, Martin began to educate himself. He learned that sundowning could be triggered by disrupted circadian rhythms, overstimulation, or even a sense of being lost in time. He started making small changes, each one designed to bring a little more peace to their evenings.
He adjusted the lighting in their home, ensuring that as the sun set, their rooms remained warm and bright. He introduced soft instrumental music in the background—songs from their youth that seemed to calm her. He made sure the house was quiet in the late afternoons, limiting television noise and unpredictable sounds that might startle her.
One of the biggest changes was to their routine. Mornings became their most active time—short walks in the backyard, light stretching, reminiscing over old photos. He made sure Elaine stayed engaged during the day, avoiding long naps that might throw off her internal clock. He also adjusted their meals, giving her a lighter dinner, reducing caffeine and sugar intake.
Some nights were still difficult, but the changes helped. Instead of battling with her confusion, he learned to redirect her. When she became anxious about “going home,” he would gently say, “We’ll leave in the morning. For now, let’s sit together.” That simple reassurance often settled her.
One night, as Martin sat beside her, Elaine placed her hand on his and smiled. “You’re such a nice man,” she whispered. “You remind me of my husband.”
Tears welled in Martin’s eyes, but he simply squeezed her hand. “I think he loves you very much,” he said softly.
Caregivers, sundowning is one of the most challenging aspects of dementia care, but there are ways to make evenings calmer. Researchers have found that structured routines, light therapy, and environmental modifications can all help. Studies show that limiting evening stimulation, playing soothing music, and keeping familiar objects nearby can reduce anxiety and confusion.
But perhaps the most important thing is what Martin discovered—meeting your loved one where they are. Rather than forcing reality upon them, guiding them gently through their fears, reassuring them with love, and finding creative ways to bring comfort.
If you're dealing with sundowning, try making small adjustments. Keep a consistent evening routine, use soft lighting, avoid overstimulation, and offer comforting words instead of corrections. And if tonight is difficult, remember: you’re not alone. Other caregivers have been where you are. There is hope, there are strategies, and most importantly, there is love.
I’d love to hear from you. Have you found any strategies that help with sundowning? Share your story in the comments or email me. And if this episode resonated with you, don’t forget to subscribe and share it with another caregiver who might need it today.
And don’t forget to join our Facebook community at bit.ly/CaregiverSecretsOnFacebook, where we share stories, tips, and encouragement. Together, we can build a village of support and make this journey a little lighter.
Finally, I’d love for you to grab a free copy of my book, Get Risen. It’s written by a family caregiver for caregivers, and you can get it at bit.ly/GetRisen.
Thank you for spending this time with me today. Keep going, caregiver. You’re doing an incredible job. Until next time. Please remember, you’ve got this!

S3 Ep 10 Dementia’s Secret Battle: How to Detect Pain Before It’s Too Late

Hello my friends and welcome back to the Caregiver Secrets Podcast! What is this show about you ask. Well this is the show where we share practical advice, heartfelt stories, and encouragement for those who give everything to care for loved ones. I am so glad that you decided to join me today. If you are feeling alone on this journey, you are in the right place to discover that you are not alone. Together, we’ll share the joys and challenges of caregiving with compassion and support.
My friends, this is not medical, financial, or health advice. Please consult with the appropriate professionals for specific concerns. My role is to inform and support you as best I can, but the actions you take are totally up to you. With that said, let’s get to work.
Listen to this story which I believe perfectly highlights what we are discussing today.
David never imagined he’d become his mother’s primary caregiver. He was in the middle of his career, traveling often for work, and juggling his own life when his mother’s dementia took a turn. It started with misplaced keys and forgotten appointments, but soon she was struggling to communicate even her basic needs. Then came the moment that changed everything—one evening, she sat in her chair, clutching her stomach in pain, unable to tell him what was wrong.
He called her doctor, but with no clear symptoms other than discomfort, they couldn’t pinpoint the problem over the phone. “If she’s not running a fever, just monitor her,” they said. But something in David’s gut told him that wasn’t enough. His mother, once so strong and independent, was now trapped in a body that wouldn’t cooperate, in a mind that couldn’t express what was wrong.
He studied her closely. She grimaced when she shifted in her chair. She was rubbing her shoulder—was the pain radiating? He noticed she wasn’t eating as much as usual, but when he asked if she was hungry, she simply shook her head. He remembered reading that people with dementia sometimes manifest pain differently. Instead of groaning or saying "it hurts," they might become agitated, restless, or even refuse food.
He knew he needed to act. He took her to urgent care, insisting something was wrong. A nurse looked skeptical until David described the changes in her behavior. “She’s usually calm, but today she’s been unusually irritable. She’s not eating, and she seems uncomfortable when she moves.”
Tests confirmed what David feared—she had a urinary tract infection, a common but dangerous issue for dementia patients. Left untreated, it could have led to confusion, increased agitation, or even hospitalization.
That night, as his mother rested, David felt a wave of relief. He had trusted his instincts and, more importantly, he had learned to read the signs of pain in a loved one who could no longer verbalize them.
This is so important. I have dealt with this personally too many times to mention. And almost every time I had to go with my gut and push past the skepticism of trained medical professionals. I could not let their reticence keep me from getting the proper care for my mom. As I have mentioned before in another episode, this persistence and following my gut has saved my mom’s life more than once. For this I am eternally grateful the God.
Recognizing pain in someone with dementia is challenging because they may not express it in ways we expect. Studies show that nonverbal cues—facial expressions, body movements, and changes in behavior—are often the clearest indicators. Research from the Alzheimer’s Association suggests that pain is frequently overlooked in dementia patients because they may not have the words to say, “This hurts.” Instead, their discomfort might come out as agitation, aggression, or withdrawal.
Some common signs of unspoken pain include:
Increased restlessness or pacing
Grimacing, wincing, or sudden stiffness
Moaning or other vocalizations, even when at rest
Withdrawal from social interactions or refusing food
Unexplained aggression or anxiety
Pain can also trigger behaviors that seem unrelated. For instance, a person who suddenly refuses to sit down may have hip pain. Someone resisting being dressed may have joint stiffness or tenderness in a specific area. This is why observation is key.
One of the most effective tools for assessing pain in dementia patients is the PAINAD Scale—the Pain Assessment in Advanced Dementia tool. It evaluates things like breathing, facial expressions, and body language to help caregivers determine discomfort levels. If you suspect pain but aren’t sure, tracking behaviors over time can help doctors pinpoint the issue. Please look this up. Many of us do this naturally as caregivers, however, I love how this scale spells things out and gives them a score. I have not used this in the past, however, I plan to start using this going forward. Give it a try and let me know what you think.
So what can you do?
Observe First, Then Act – Pay close attention to changes in behavior, even subtle ones. Trust your gut when something feels off.
Use Gentle Touch – Lightly pressing on different areas of the body can sometimes reveal a reaction, like a flinch or a wince.
Track Patterns – If your loved one is more agitated at night or after eating, it may indicate pain triggered by a specific issue.
Advocate with Medical Providers – If a doctor dismisses concerns, push for an evaluation. You know your loved one best. Be persistent.
Make Adjustments – A different chair, softer clothing, or a change in diet might relieve certain discomforts before they become bigger issues.
Most importantly, remember this: Your attention, patience, and advocacy are lifelines for your loved one. The ability to recognize pain when words fail is one of the most powerful caregiving skills you can develop.
One of the mantras from Get Risen that fits here is: “I am strong and alive, and I am destined to thrive.” Caregiving can be overwhelming, but recognizing pain and advocating for relief is one way to ensure that you’re not just surviving this journey—you’re actively making a difference in your loved one’s quality of life.
I’d love to hear from you. Have you ever had to advocate for a loved one’s pain to be taken seriously? Share your story in the comments or email me. And if this episode resonated with you, don’t forget to subscribe and share it with another caregiver who might need it today.
And don’t forget to join our Facebook community at bit.ly/CaregiverSecretsOnFacebook, where we share stories, tips, and encouragement. Together, we can build a village of support and make this journey a little lighter.
Finally, I’d love for you to grab a free copy of my book, Get Risen. It’s written by a family caregiver for caregivers, and you can get it at bit.ly/GetRisen.
Until next time, take a breath, trust your instincts, and know that you’re doing an incredible job. See you soon. And remember, You’ve got this.
 

S3 Ep 9 When They Say No to Everything The Secret to Getting Past Dementia Resistance

Welcome back to the Caregiver Secrets Podcast! My heart’s desire is to share practical advice, heartfelt stories, and encourage my fellow caregivers. Thank you for listening today. Feeling alone and unseen are not uncommon sentiments expressed by caregivers. I want you to know that you’re not alone on this journey and that I see you. I understand the challenges and together, we’ll share the joys and challenges of caregiving with compassion and support.
My friends, this is not medical, financial, or health advice. Please consult with the appropriate professionals for specific concerns. My role is to inform and support you as best I can, but the actions you take are totally up to you. With that said, let’s get into this.
I trust that this story will resonate with you today.
Andre never expected to be a caregiver. He was a driven man, a problem-solver by nature, someone who prided himself on efficiency. In his world, things had solutions. Until his mother’s dementia progressed, and suddenly, his logical approach to life wasn’t working anymore.
It started small. His mother, Evelyn, would refuse to take her medication, insisting she had already done so, even though the pills sat untouched on the table. Then came the refusals to eat certain meals she used to love, and the resistance to getting dressed in the morning. And the worst of it? She started rejecting his help altogether, snapping, "I don’t need you treating me like a child!" The words stung, not because they were harsh, but because she truly believed them. She saw him as an enemy, not the son who had stepped in to care for her.
Andre, always the fixer, tried reasoning with her. He explained, he demonstrated, he even resorted to pleading. But the more he pushed, the more she pushed back. Some days, it felt like he was caught in a battle he never wanted to fight.
One morning, after another exhausting attempt to get his mother to take a bath, Andre collapsed onto the couch, rubbing his temples. "I don’t get it," he admitted to his best friend over the phone. "She needs help. Why does she fight me every step of the way?"
His friend, whose father had gone through something similar, simply said, "Because you’re taking away the one thing she still feels like she has—control."
Andre let those words sink in. Control. His mother had lost so much—her independence, her ability to make decisions, even pieces of her own memories. But saying no? That was still hers. And she was clinging to it for dear life.
The next day, Andre tried a different approach. Instead of commanding, he offered choices. "Mom, would you like to wear the blue sweater or the red one today?" Instead of pushing, he guided. "I could really use your help setting the table. Could you show me how you used to do it?" Instead of correcting, he validated. When she insisted she had already eaten breakfast, he nodded. "That’s okay, I made something extra just in case you’re hungry again."
Slowly, things began to shift. His mother, no longer feeling like she was being controlled, started cooperating more. There were still difficult moments, but the constant resistance started easing. Andre learned that his mother wasn’t fighting him—she was fighting the fear of losing herself. And by giving her small choices, by validating her emotions rather than dismissing them, he found a way to work with her instead of against her.
If you’re a caregiver struggling with a loved one who refuses help, know this: their refusals aren’t personal. They’re holding onto what little control they have left. One of the most effective strategies you can use is the "Yes, and" approach—agreeing with their reality while gently guiding them in the direction they need to go.
It’s also crucial to recognize that refusal is often rooted in emotion rather than logic. Fear, frustration, pride—these are powerful forces. The more we acknowledge and validate those emotions, the less resistance we face.
In my book Get Risen, I share a mantra that applies perfectly here: "I am giving my best and passing life’s test." Caregiving is a test of patience, creativity, and love. And sometimes, passing that test doesn’t mean fixing everything. It just means adapting, staying present, and finding a way forward—together.
I’d love to hear from you. Have you ever used a new approach to shift a tough moment? Share your story in the comments or email me. And if this episode resonated with you, don’t forget to subscribe and share it with another caregiver who might need it today.
And don’t forget to join our Facebook community at bit.ly/CaregiverSecretsOnFacebook, where we share stories, tips, and encouragement. Together, we can build a village of support and make this journey a little lighter.
Finally, I’d love for you to grab a free copy of my book, Get Risen. It’s written by a family caregiver for caregivers, and you can get it at bit.ly/GetRisen.
Until next time, keep going. You are stronger than you know.
 

S3 Ep 8 - Stop Feeling Like a Failure: The Truth About Caregiver Guilt

Welcome back to the Caregiver Secrets Podcast! Our goal is to be the show where we share practical advice, heartfelt stories, and encouragement for my fellow caregivers. I personally know the challenges of caregiving for a loved-one and I don’t want you to feel alone on this journey. Together, we’ll share the joys and challenges of caregiving with compassion and support.
My friends, this is not medical, financial, or health advice. Please consult with the appropriate professionals for specific concerns. My role is to inform and support you as best I can, but the actions you take are totally up to you. With that said, thanks for listening and let’s get into today’s story that highlights what we are discussing today.
Elijah had always been the dependable one in his family. The son who showed up when no one else did. The one who rearranged his life to make space for his aging mother, Ruth, when her memory started slipping away like grains of sand through his fingers. It started small—missed appointments, misplaced keys—but soon, it became clear. Dementia wasn’t knocking on the door; it had already moved in.
At first, he thought he could handle it. He read books, joined forums, and tried to prepare himself for the changes ahead. But nothing could prepare him for the weight of the guilt that would settle into his bones. No matter how much he did, it never felt like enough.
One night, after a particularly difficult day where Ruth had accused him of stealing her wedding ring—one she had lost years ago—Elijah sat in his car, gripping the steering wheel, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He had walked out of the house in frustration, needing space before he said something he’d regret.
"What kind of son gets angry at his own mother? How could I let her upset me like that?" The questions gnawed at him, feeding the ever-growing monster of guilt that had taken up residence in his chest.
The next morning, he woke up with an ache that had nothing to do with sleep deprivation. It was the exhaustion of feeling like he was failing, no matter what he did. He wasn't just fighting his mother’s disease; he was fighting himself.
Elijah didn’t talk about the guilt. It felt too shameful, too selfish. Instead, he buried it beneath an endless to-do list—doctor’s appointments, medication schedules, meal planning. But it was always there, whispering that he should be doing more. That he should be better.
One evening, his childhood friend Marcus stopped by. Marcus wasn’t just a friend—he was the kind of person who saw through the masks people wore.
“You look like you’re carrying the weight of the world, man,” Marcus said, leaning against the counter.
Elijah laughed, but it sounded hollow even to him. “I mean… isn’t that part of the job?”
Marcus shook his head. “Nah. It’s part of the trap.”
Elijah frowned. “Trap?”
Marcus put his coffee cup down. “You think if you just try harder, if you just do more, you’ll be able to control this. But guilt? Guilt’s a liar, man. It tells you that loving someone means sacrificing yourself completely. But love isn’t about punishment. Your mom wouldn’t want you breaking yourself apart for her.”
Elijah looked away, swallowing hard. “But what if I miss something? What if I don’t do enough?”
Marcus held his gaze. “You’re human, not a miracle worker. You’re doing your best, and that has to be enough.”
It was the first time someone had said those words to him. And for the first time in a long time, he let himself believe them.
Elijah started making small changes. He let himself take breaks without guilt. He reached out to a support group. And most importantly, he began to forgive himself—for the moments of frustration, for the times he had to walk away, for not being perfect.
Caregiver guilt is a relentless companion, whispering that no matter what you do, it's never enough. But the truth? You are enough.
Guilt is common, but it is also a liar. It tells you that unless you are perfect, you are failing. But caregiving is not about perfection—it’s about showing up, doing your best, and learning to extend the same grace to yourself that you give to your loved one.
If you are battling guilt today, I want you to hear this: You are not alone, and you are doing enough.
I’ll leave you with this mantra from my book, Get Risen: "I am committed to joy and success, and leaving behind negative stress."
Write it down. Say it out loud. Let it remind you that your worth is not measured by your exhaustion, but by the love and care you pour out daily.
I’d love to hear from you. Have you ever struggled with caregiver guilt? Share your story in the comments or email me. And if this episode resonated with you, don’t forget to subscribe and share it with another caregiver who might need it today.
And don’t forget to join our Facebook community at bit.ly/CaregiverSecretsOnFacebook, where we share stories, tips, and encouragement. Together, we can build a village of support and make this journey a little lighter.
Finally, I’d love for you to grab a free copy of my book, Get Risen. It’s written by a family caregiver for caregivers, and you can get it at bit.ly/GetRisen.
Thank you for being here, and remember—you are doing enough and you’ve got this.
 

S3 Ep 7 - Gone But Still Here The Silent Grief of Dementia Caregiving

Welcome back to the Caregiver Secrets Podcast! As many of you know, this is the show where we share practical advice, heartfelt stories, and encouragement for those who give their all to care for loved ones. Thank you for listening today. I want you to know that you’re not alone on this journey, and together, we’ll share the joys and challenges of caregiving with compassion and support.
As always, let me remind you: this is not medical, financial, or health advice. Please consult with the appropriate professionals for specific concerns. My role is to inform and support you as best I can, but the actions you take are totally up to you. With that said, let’s get to work.
Here is a heartfelt story that highlights what we are discussing today.
Jason adjusted the pillow beneath his mother’s head, tucking the blanket gently around her frail frame. The once-unstoppable woman who had raised him, who had worked double shifts to put food on the table, who had cheered at every one of his high school basketball games, now lay in bed, her mind a distant echo of the person she used to be.
Tonight was a hard night. The doctor had told him weeks ago that her memory would fade in waves, but nothing prepared him for the moment when she looked at him—her own son—with a vacant stare.
"Who are you?" she whispered.
Jason felt his chest tighten, as if an invisible force had reached inside and squeezed his heart. He had spent months preparing for this moment, reading articles, joining support groups, even repeating to himself that when she forgot him, it wasn’t personal. It was the disease. But now that it had happened, it felt like a fresh wound, raw and deep.
"Mom, it's me—Jason," he said, forcing a smile. "Your son."
Her expression remained blank for a moment, and then, as if searching through the fragments of her past, she murmured, "Jason? My little boy?"
Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, but he swallowed them down. "Yeah, Mom. Your little boy."
She sighed and turned her head toward the window, staring at nothing in particular. "I used to have a son named Jason," she said softly. "He had the biggest heart." Then she closed her eyes, drifting off as if the conversation had never happened.
Jason sat in the chair beside her bed, the weight of grief pressing down on him. It wasn’t the kind of grief that came with death, but something heavier—an ambiguous, ongoing loss. His mother was still here, breathing, alive… and yet, the mother he knew was slipping through his fingers like sand.
That night, he sat awake for hours, staring at the ceiling, replaying the moment over and over in his mind. He had given up his social life, his career aspirations, even his health to care for her. And for what? For her to forget him?
The thought clawed at his soul, filling him with anger and despair. He had always believed that love was enough—that if he just cared for her well enough, she wouldn’t slip away. But love couldn’t hold back time. Love couldn’t undo dementia.
The next morning, as he brewed his coffee, the exhaustion felt different—heavier. He wasn’t just physically drained; he was grieving a loss that had no funeral, no closure.
A few days later, Jason found himself scrolling through a caregiving forum online, looking for someone—anyone—who understood this feeling. That’s when he stumbled across the term ambiguous grief. He read through the descriptions, and for the first time in months, he felt seen.
Ambiguous grief is a unique kind of pain. It is grieving someone who is still alive but no longer the same. It is the mourning of a relationship that no longer exists as it once did. It is the slow, painful realization that your loved one is fading while you are forced to watch.
Jason realized that what he was experiencing was normal, even expected. And while the grief wouldn’t disappear, he could learn to live with it.
That night, he sat beside his mother’s bed again, but this time, with a new understanding. When she called him "the little boy with the biggest heart," he didn't try to force her memory. He simply took her hand and said, "He loves you very much."
She smiled in her sleep.
And in that moment, Jason realized that maybe love wasn’t about holding on—it was about being present. Loving the person she was now, not just the person she used to be.
If Jason’s story resonates with you, know that you’re not alone. Ambiguous grief is a silent weight that many caregivers carry. The sadness of watching someone fade while still having to show up, day after day, with love and patience, is one of the hardest challenges a caregiver can face.
I still remember when I first heard the term. It was a relief to know that the emotional pain I was feeling had a name and that others had experienced it too. Up until that point, I had never been exposed to the concept. Although, from that day about 7 years ago, until today, that grief still comes in waves, I now know what it is and how to deal with it.
So how do we navigate this type of grief?
First, acknowledge it. Pretending it doesn’t exist won’t make it go away. Naming it gives you power over it. Say it out loud if you have to: I am grieving, and that is okay.
Second, find ways to honor both the past and the present. Look at old photos, tell stories, and cherish the memories. But also find joy in who your loved one is today. Even if they don’t remember you, you remember them. And that matters.
Third, seek support. Grief—especially ambiguous grief—needs to be shared. Whether it’s a therapist, a support group, or a friend who understands, do not carry this weight alone.
And finally, give yourself permission to feel. Some days will be harder than others. Some days, you’ll smile at the memories, and other days, they’ll break your heart. That’s okay. This journey is not about suppressing emotions—it’s about moving through them with grace.
Before we close, I want to share a mantra from my book Get Risen:
“I Am Experiencing Grace and Life, and Living Free from Strife.”
Repeat this to yourself when the weight of caregiving feels too heavy. Let it remind you that while grief may walk beside you, so does grace.
I’d love to hear from you. Have you ever felt this type of grief? Share your story in the comments or email me. And if this episode resonated with you, don’t forget to subscribe and share it with another caregiver who might need it today.
And don’t forget to join our Facebook community at bit.ly/CaregiverSecretsOnFacebook, where we share stories, tips, and encouragement. Together, we can build a village of support and make this journey a little lighter.
Finally, I’d love for you to grab a free copy of my book, Get Risen. I wrote this book for my fellow family caregivers and you can get it at bit.ly/GetRisen.
Until next time, remember: You are seen. You are loved. And you are never alone. You’ve got this.
 

S3 Ep6 - Silent Pain: Struggle of Dementia Patients (And How to Detect It Before It’s Too Late!)

Welcome back to the Caregiver Secrets Podcast! As many of you know, this is the show where we share practical advice, heartfelt stories, and encouragement for those who give their all to care for loved ones. Thank you for listening today. I want you to know that you’re not alone on this journey, and together, we’ll share the joys and challenges of caregiving with compassion and support.
As always, let me remind you: this is not medical, financial, or health advice. Please consult with the appropriate professionals for specific concerns. My role is to inform and support you as best I can, but the actions you take are totally up to you. With that said, let’s get to work.
Here is a heartfelt story that highlights what we are discussing today.
Jason never imagined that his life would take such a drastic turn. He was in his early 40s, a successful entrepreneur with a growing business, when his mother, Diane, was diagnosed with dementia. At first, it was just small things—misplacing keys, forgetting a name here and there. But as time went on, the changes became more pronounced. She would forget where she was in her own home, become agitated over seemingly minor issues, and sometimes lash out in frustration.
One evening, as Jason helped his mother prepare for bed, Diane suddenly became overwhelmed with fear. Her voice trembled, and her hands shook as she pointed at Jason, insisting he was an intruder. Her panic escalated, turning into a full-blown outburst. Jason felt the sting of her words, the sharp edge of rejection from the woman who had always been his rock. But instead of arguing, instead of trying to force reality onto her, Jason remembered something he had read about dementia-related outbursts. He took a deep breath. He softened his stance. He matched her energy but then slowly guided it down.
“Mom,” he said gently, his voice steady but calm, “I see that you’re scared. I’m here to help you. Let’s sit together for a minute.”
His words weren’t a correction but an acknowledgment of what she felt. Slowly, Diane’s breathing steadied. Her hands stopped trembling. Jason reached for a soft blanket, one she had always loved, and draped it over her shoulders. Then, he hummed a song she used to sing to him as a child. Within moments, Diane’s eyes softened. The storm had passed.
Outbursts like these had once left Jason emotionally drained and helpless. But through experience, research, and trial and error, he learned that outbursts were often fueled by fear, pain, or confusion. By remaining calm, validating Diane’s emotions, and using redirection techniques, he could guide her back to a place of safety and peace.
Caregivers, sudden outbursts can be one of the most challenging parts of this journey. They can feel personal, overwhelming, even heartbreaking. But the key is understanding what’s underneath them. Research shows that common triggers include physical discomfort, sensory overload, and frustration from an inability to communicate. Immediate de-escalation techniques include maintaining a calm tone, mirroring the person’s emotional state, and using grounding techniques like a favorite object or familiar music.
Prevention is just as important. Consider the environment. Is there too much noise? Too many people talking at once? Are they hungry? Are they in pain but unable to express it? Establishing predictable routines, using non-verbal communication, and proactively managing their surroundings can significantly reduce outbursts.
One mantra from my book, Get Risen, has been especially helpful to me and other caregivers:
I am strong and alive, and I am destined to thrive.
In the middle of difficult moments, repeat this to yourself. You are stronger than this moment. You are not just surviving this journey—you are growing through it.
I’d love to hear from you. Have you ever faced an outburst that took you by surprise? How did you handle it? Share your story in the comments or email me. And if this episode resonated with you, don’t forget to subscribe and share it with another caregiver who might need it today.
And don’t forget to join our Facebook community at bit.ly/CaregiverSecretsOnFacebook, where we share stories, tips, and encouragement. Together, we can build a village of support and make this journey a little lighter.
Finally, I’d love for you to grab a free copy of my book, Get Risen. It’s written by a family caregiver for caregivers, and you can get it at bit.ly/GetRisen.
Thank you for being here. Remember, you are not alone. Keep showing up, keep giving yourself grace, and know that what you’re doing matters. Until next time, take care.
 

S3 Ep 5 - The 5-Second Secret to Deep Connection in Dementia Care

Welcome back to the Caregiver Secrets Podcast! As many of you know, this is the show where we share practical advice, heartfelt stories, and encouragement for those who give their all to care for loved ones. Thank you for listening today. I want you to know that I am also a family caregiver and have been one for over 10 years. I am taking care of my mom. I hope you can see and feel that the insights, encouragement and information that I share with you come from a place of understanding and authenticity.
Let me remind you though that this is not medical, financial, or health advice. Please consult with the appropriate professionals for specific concerns. My role is to inform and support you as best I can, but the actions you take are totally up to you. With that said, let’s get to work.
Here is a heartfelt story that highlights what we are discussing today.
Jared adjusted his mother’s scarf as he helped her into the wheelchair. The hospital hallway was bustling with nurses, families, and the occasional clatter of a meal cart being pushed to its next stop. His mother, Diane, once the vibrant heart of their family, now had eyes that flickered between recognition and confusion.
“Where are we going?” she asked, clutching her purse—a habit from years of independence.
Jared smiled. “Just a little walk, Mom. Fresh air.”
The truth was, he needed the walk as much as she did. Lately, caregiving had felt like an endless cycle of reminders, redirections, and exhaustion. Diane’s dementia was progressing, and though he tried to find meaning in their time together, most days blurred into a routine of repeated questions and small frustrations.
As they reached the hospital’s small courtyard, the crisp autumn air greeted them. Jared parked the wheelchair near a bench, sat down beside her, and exhaled.
Diane reached into her purse and pulled out an old photograph. Jared leaned closer. It was a picture of him as a child, sitting on his father’s shoulders at a carnival. He had never seen it before.
“Do you remember this, Mom?”
She studied the picture, her lips moving slightly as if trying to recall. Then she shook her head. “No, but I do know this feeling.”
“What feeling?”
She reached over, patting his hand gently. “Love.”
Jared swallowed hard. In that moment, all the stress, the exhaustion, the endless cycle of caregiving—none of it mattered. This was what he was fighting for. The small moments. The ones that couldn’t be measured but meant everything.
That night, he sat by her bedside, humming an old lullaby she used to sing. Her breathing slowed, her grip on his hand relaxed, and for the first time in weeks, she slept peacefully.
The next morning, Jared woke up with a new perspective. He couldn’t stop the disease, but he could choose how he showed up. He started looking for ways to create more small moments—sitting quietly with her, playing music she used to love, telling old family stories even if she didn’t remember them.
Over time, he realized that connection wasn’t in the big gestures. It was in the touch of a hand, the familiar hum of a song, the warmth of simply being there.
Now, for me, when I was growing up, laughter filled our home—it was the language of our love, the glue that held us together through life’s ups and downs. My mom and I shared so many moments of pure joy, where humor wasn’t just entertainment; it was connection. That’s why now, in the midst of caregiving, every smile, every chuckle, every fleeting moment of laughter feels like a bridge back to her—to us. No matter how much has changed, that spark remains, reminding me that love isn’t just in words; it’s in the moments that make us laugh together.
 
Now, let’s talk about why these small moments matter so much.
Research from the Journal of Alzheimer’s Disease shows that even brief positive interactions improve mood and slow cognitive decline. Dr. Robert Butler, who pioneered Reminiscence Therapy, found that discussing past memories—even if the details weren’t accurate—helped dementia patients feel more emotionally secure.
And science backs this up: Dr. Paul Zak’s research on oxytocin—the “bonding hormone”—shows that simple gestures like touch, laughter, and shared experiences reduce stress and improve emotional well-being for both the caregiver and their loved one.
So, how can we intentionally create more of these moments?
First, practice presence. Your loved one may not remember details, but they will remember feelings. Put away distractions and focus on simply being there.
Second, create simple rituals. Maybe it’s a nightly song, a gentle hand massage, or flipping through a photo album. Routine brings comfort, especially in late-stage dementia.
Third, embrace their reality. If they believe they are in a different time period, meet them there instead of correcting them. Validation Therapy, developed by Naomi Feil, teaches us that stepping into their world reduces agitation and fosters connection.
And most importantly, release expectations. Your loved one may not always recognize you, but love is not just in words—it’s in presence, in patience, and in the way you continue to show up.
Before we wrap up, let’s take a moment for a mantra from my book, Get Risen:
“A flood of joy and gladness has displaced all sadness.”
Let this be your mindset today. Look for joy in the smallest of moments.
I’d love to hear from you. Have you ever had a small but meaningful moment with your loved one? Share your story in the comments or email me. And if this episode resonated with you, don’t forget to subscribe and share it with another caregiver who might need it today.
And don’t forget to join our Facebook community at bit.ly/CaregiverSecretsOnFacebook, where we share stories, tips, and encouragement. Together, we can build a village of support and make this journey a little lighter.
Finally, I’d love for you to grab a free copy of my book, Get Risen. It’s written by a family caregiver for caregivers, and you can get it at bit.ly/GetRisen.
Thank you for being here. Until next time, take a deep breath, embrace the small moments, and remember—you’re not alone.
 

S3 Ep 4 The Secret Language of Love How to Communicate When Words No Longer Work

Welcome back to the Caregiver Secrets Podcast! My desire is to share practical advice, heartfelt stories, and encouragement for you, the caregiver.  You will be glad you listened today. I want you to know that you’re not alone on this journey, and together, we’ll share the joys and challenges of caregiving with compassion and support.
Let me just let you know: this is not medical, financial, or health advice. Please consult with the appropriate professionals for specific concerns. My role is to inform and support you as best I can, but the actions you take are totally up to you. With that said, let’s get to work.
Listen to this story that perfectly depicts what we are discussing today.
Ella had always been a talker. Whether it was morning phone calls with her sister or long chats over coffee with her best friend, words were her way of connecting. But now, as she cared for her father, James, who was deep in the throes of dementia, she found herself struggling. Conversations that used to flow so easily had become riddled with confusion and frustration.
“Dad, do you remember who I am?” she asked one morning, hopeful yet fearful of his answer.
James furrowed his brow and looked at her carefully. “You’re… someone important,” he said, his voice trailing off.
It hurt. Every time. But she tried to smile. “That’s right, Dad. I’m someone important.”
Still, she couldn’t shake the sadness. She wanted so desperately to keep their bond alive, but words, once her greatest ally, were failing her.
One evening, after a particularly difficult day where James had refused to eat and then lashed out when she tried to help him change his shirt, Ella sat scrolling through a dementia caregivers’ forum. She came across a discussion about nonverbal communication. The post mentioned research from Dr. Albert Mehrabian, who found that 93% of communication is nonverbal. It also referenced Dr. Giacomo Rizzolatti’s studies on mirror neurons, explaining that emotions—especially calmness and kindness—could be mirrored by dementia patients even when words didn’t register.
Ella decided to try something new.
The next morning, instead of asking James a direct question, she simply sat beside him and held his hand. When he looked at her, she smiled—not just a polite smile, but one filled with warmth and familiarity. She noticed how his expression softened.
Later, when it was time for breakfast, instead of urging him to eat, she placed a spoon in her own mouth first, making exaggerated chewing motions and nodding as if to say, “This is good.” James, watching her, slowly picked up his spoon and mirrored her action.
Encouraged, she started using more gestures and facial expressions to guide their day. If she needed him to stand, she extended her hand and gestured upwards, making sure her body language was inviting rather than forceful. If he seemed confused, she placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and nodded, silently conveying that everything was okay.
She also learned to read his nonverbal cues. When his hands clenched into fists or his shoulders tensed, she knew he was feeling anxious. Instead of trying to reason with him, she would hum softly—a tune from his childhood, something familiar—and place a gentle hand on his arm. More often than not, his breathing slowed, and his grip loosened.
One afternoon, they sat by the window watching birds hop around the feeder. James seemed particularly still, lost in thought. Then, without prompting, he reached over and patted her hand. “You’re someone important,” he murmured again.
This time, it didn’t sting. Instead, she squeezed his hand back and whispered, “And you are, too.”
By shifting her focus from words to presence, from talking to simply being, Ella found a new way to connect with her father. She had spent so much time mourning the conversations they could no longer have that she almost missed the language they could still share—the language of smiles, touch, and warmth.
For caregivers, nonverbal communication is an essential skill. As dementia progresses, words often fade, but emotions remain. Research has shown that tone of voice, body language, and facial expressions carry more weight than the words themselves. Even simple adjustments—like slowing down movements, maintaining gentle eye contact, and using gestures—can transform interactions, making them more reassuring and effective.
So, if you find yourself struggling to communicate with your loved one, take a step back. What is your body language saying? What energy are you bringing into the room? Sometimes, the most powerful message isn’t spoken—it’s felt.
I’d love to hear from you. Have you ever used nonverbal communication to connect with your loved one? Share your story in the comments or email me. And if this episode resonated with you, don’t forget to subscribe and share it with another caregiver who might need it today.
And don’t forget to join our Facebook community at bit.ly/CaregiverSecretsOnFacebook, where we share stories, tips, and encouragement. Together, we can build a village of support and make this journey a little lighter.
Finally, I’d love for you to grab a free copy of my book, Get Risen. I wrote it specifically to and for other family caregivers and you can get it at bit.ly/GetRisen.
Just remember, no matter what you are facing, you’ve got this!
 

S3 Ep 3 The Morning Hack Every Dementia Caregiver Needs to Know (It Changes Everything!)

Welcome back to the Caregiver Secrets Podcast! This is the place where we share practical advice, heartfelt stories, and encouragement for you dear caregiver. I am overjoyed that you are listening today. Please know that you’re not alone on this journey, and together, we’ll share the joys and challenges of caregiving with compassion and support.
As always, let me remind you: this is not medical, financial, or health advice. Please consult with the appropriate professionals for specific concerns. My role is to inform and support you as best I can, but the actions you take are totally up to you. With that said, let’s get down to business.
I am going to start with a wonderful story that depicts what we are discussing.
Lauren had always been a morning person—until caregiving took over her life. Before she moved in to care for her father, her mornings were predictable. A cup of coffee, a quiet moment with her journal, and a brisk walk before heading off to work. But now, mornings were chaos. Her father, who was in the mid-stage of dementia, often woke up confused, agitated, or refusing to get out of bed. Some days, he was pleasant and cooperative. Other days, he fought her on everything—changing clothes, eating breakfast, even brushing his teeth. Lauren never knew what to expect, and the unpredictability was exhausting.
One morning, after barely getting four hours of sleep, she walked into her dad’s room, dreading what was coming. “Dad, good morning! Time to get up.” He stared at her blankly. “No,” he muttered, pulling the blanket over his head.
Lauren sighed, knowing that if she pushed too hard, it would turn into a battle. But she also knew that letting him stay in bed too long would throw off the entire day. Instead of arguing, she tried something different. She played an old jazz song from his childhood, something her grandmother used to hum while making breakfast. As the familiar melody filled the room, her father peeked out from under the blanket, his face softening.
“Is that Louis Armstrong?” he asked.
“Yes, Dad! Remember when you played this song for me as a kid?”
His eyes brightened with recognition, and Lauren took that moment to gently hold his hand. “Let’s get you up and dressed while we listen,” she said. This time, he didn’t resist.
That was the day Lauren realized mornings didn’t have to be a struggle. With a little planning, she could set both herself and her father up for success. She started creating a morning routine checklist—one for her father and one for herself.
Mornings are one of the most critical parts of the caregiving day. A structured, dementia-friendly routine helps reduce confusion, prevent agitation, and create a sense of stability. Research from the National Institute on Aging confirms that structured routines lower stress for individuals with dementia, while disruptions can lead to increased resistance and agitation. Studies from Dr. Erik Musiek at Washington University highlight how circadian rhythm disruptions in Alzheimer’s can make waking up more challenging, which is why sensory cues—like music, light, and scent—can help ease the transition from sleep to wakefulness.
In my own caregiving journey with my mom, I learned this lesson firsthand. I discovered the power of my own personal routine about midway into my caregiving journey. Simultaneously, I discovered the importance of keeping a running checklist, to make sure I took into account every aspect of my routine. It made me feel more in control of my life and ensured that I was still moving forward with my own goals, even while caring for my mom. Ironically, what prompted me to develop my own written routine was recognizing how critical it was to create a checklist for my mom’s morning routine. I now keep a composition notebook filled with daily checklists—one for my mother and one for me. It’s been a lifesaver for both of us.
A predictable morning routine helps people with dementia feel safe. Imagine waking up every morning feeling lost, unsure of where you are, or why a stranger is telling you to get out of bed. That’s the reality for many dementia patients. But when caregivers create a structured, sensory-friendly morning, it builds familiarity and comfort.
Here are some simple yet powerful morning strategies to reduce stress for both you and your loved one:
 Use Sensory Cues for Gentle Wake-Ups – Instead of abruptly waking your loved one, try using soft music, natural light, or a familiar scent like coffee or lavender to help ease them into wakefulness. Studies in occupational therapy show that sensory cues help transition individuals with dementia between tasks more smoothly.
 Stick to a Predictable Order – Doing the same steps in the same order every morning creates a sense of familiarity and security. Start with small wins—like sitting up in bed before attempting bigger tasks like dressing.
 Avoid Rushing – People with dementia need extra time to process instructions. A slow, gentle pace prevents frustration and resistance.
 Give Choices, but Not Too Many – Instead of asking, “What do you want for breakfast?” which can be overwhelming, say, “Would you like oatmeal or eggs?” This gives a sense of control without causing decision fatigue.
Incorporate Movement Early – Light stretching or walking to the bathroom can help with stiffness and improve mood. If they resist, you can say, “Let’s go see what’s cooking in the kitchen,” and gently guide them.
Your Morning Routine Matters Too – Many caregivers sacrifice their own morning routines in order to take care of their loved ones, but that leads to burnout. Research shows that even small moments of self-care in the morning improve overall well-being. Even if it’s just a five-minute meditation, a short prayer, or a quiet cup of tea, making space for yourself will make you a more effective caregiver.
Caregiving is unpredictable, but a strong morning routine creates stability in an unstable situation. It won’t be perfect every day. Some mornings will still be tough. But with the right strategies, a bit of patience, and a whole lot of grace, you can transform chaotic mornings into calmer, more manageable starts.
I’d love to hear from you. Have you ever made a small change to a morning routine that made a big difference? Share your story in the comments or email me. And if this episode resonated with you, don’t forget to subscribe and share it with another caregiver who might need it today.
And don’t forget to join our Facebook community at bit.ly/CaregiverSecretsOnFacebook, where we share stories, tips, and encouragement. Together, we can build a village of support and make this journey a little lighter.
Finally, I’d love for you to grab a free copy of my book, Get Risen. It’s written by a family caregiver for caregivers, and you can get it at bit.ly/GetRisen.
Take care, and remember, You’ve got this!
 

S3 Ep 2 - The Redirect Trick: How to Instantly Turn Dementia Chaos into Calm

Welcome back to the Caregiver Secrets Podcast! As many of you know, this is the show where we share practical advice, heartfelt stories, and encouragement for those who give their all to care for loved ones. Thank you for listening today. I want you to remember that you’re not alone on this journey, and together, we’ll share the joys and challenges of caregiving with compassion and support.
As always, let me remind you: this is not medical, financial, or health advice. Please consult with the appropriate professionals for specific concerns. My role is to inform and support you as best I can, but the actions you take are totally up to you. With that said, let’s talk my friends.
Season 3 is here, and as I mentioned in yesterday’s episode, we’re focusing on “Mastering the Moments: Practical Strategies for Everyday Caregiving.” Today we will be speaking about a topic that I know will help you as a caregiver.
Here is a great story that illustrates what we are discussing. Imagine a woman named Karen, a devoted daughter caring for her father, who has Alzheimer’s. One evening, just as she was about to start preparing dinner, her father became increasingly agitated. He insisted that he needed to leave the house immediately—he had an urgent meeting at work, a job he had retired from nearly two decades ago. At first, Karen tried to reason with him. “Dad, you don’t work anymore. You retired a long time ago.” But the more she insisted, the more frustrated and anxious he became. His hands trembled, his face flushed, and he began pacing the room, repeating, “I have to go, I have to go!”
That’s when Karen remembered something she had learned—arguing with logic wouldn’t work. Instead of correcting him, she took a deep breath, softened her voice, and said, “Oh, you have a meeting? That’s important. Let me check the schedule for you.” She walked over to the counter, pretended to look at a calendar, and then smiled. “It looks like the meeting was rescheduled for tomorrow. You’re all set for tonight.” As soon as she said it, his tension melted away. His body relaxed, and he sat down in his chair as if the urgency had never existed. She handed him a warm cup of tea and turned on his favorite old jazz record. Within minutes, he was humming along, the crisis completely diffused.
This kind of redirection isn’t about deception—it’s about meeting our loved ones where they are. As dementia progresses, logic fades, but emotions remain. When we understand that, we can move from conflict to calm by using techniques like validation therapy, sensory engagement, and creative distraction.
I had to learn early on how to redirect my own mother. For some reason, she got it in her mind that the house across the street was where she stayed. I think she thought it was her childhood home. When she first tried to go there, I would tell her that where she was now was her home. Of course, that made matters worse. She would insist, growing increasingly upset, convinced I was keeping her from where she truly belonged. I learned that it was wiser to tell her that no one was home there and that we could go later. That worked like a charm. It was actually hard for me to do this at first because I had always been pretty honest with my mom. I was never good at being dishonest. But I had to learn to weigh the greater good. This kind of redirection became the way I helped Mom overcome many of her misconceptions caused by the disease.
So why does redirection work so well? Research from the Alzheimer’s Association tells us that dementia affects the prefrontal cortex—the part of the brain responsible for reasoning—while the emotional centers remain relatively intact. This means that instead of relying on logic, we have to tap into emotions and sensory experiences. Naomi Feil’s Validation Therapy teaches us that when we acknowledge emotions instead of correcting facts, we reduce agitation. Instead of saying, “That’s not true,” we can say, “That sounds really important to you.” This approach helps our loved ones feel heard rather than dismissed.
Dementia care expert Teepa Snow emphasizes the Distract and Engage method, which can be a game-changer. Engaging the senses—whether through touch, sound, or movement—can successfully shift focus away from distress. Some caregivers use go-to distractions like familiar songs, warm towels, or small repetitive tasks like folding laundry. A simple change in environment—offering a snack, adjusting lighting, or even stepping outside for fresh air—can also do wonders.
The key is knowing when to use redirection and when to use validation. If a loved one is expressing distress about something real, like feeling cold or hungry, we address the need. But if the distress is based on confusion—like believing they need to go to work or that a deceased loved one is waiting for them—we redirect. It’s not about lying; it’s about helping them feel safe and understood.
Caregiving is full of these small but powerful shifts. When we stop insisting on reality and start meeting our loved ones where they are, we transform tense moments into peaceful ones. It takes practice, patience, and a willingness to let go of what we think should work in favor of what actually does.
I’d love to hear from you. Have you ever used redirection to shift a tough moment? Share your story in the comments or email me. And if this episode resonated with you, don’t forget to subscribe and share it with another caregiver who might need it today.
And don’t forget to join our Facebook community at bit.ly/CaregiverSecretsOnFacebook, where we share stories, tips, and encouragement. Together, we can build a village of support and make this journey a little lighter.
Finally, I’d love for you to grab a free copy of my book, Get Risen. It’s written by a family caregiver for caregivers, and you can get it at bit.ly/GetRisen.
Until next time, keep going. You are seen, you are appreciated, and you are never alone. And remember, You’ve got this!